The Book
by Eady of Old
Summary: After Anna lends Mr. Bates, the new valet, her copy of Jane Eyre, the theme of the novel follows them through their relationship.


**The Book**

**Summary: After Anna lends Mr. Bates, the new valet, her copy of Jane Eyre, the theme of the novel follows them through their relationship. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey or any of the characters. **

**A/N: This story begins in season 1 and runs through the end of season 3 as told through snippets. Its probably a bit too long for a one-shot but I'm posting it all anyway. **

**I'll call spoilers for major plot lines from the book _Jane Eyre _if anyone hasn't read it. A couple of times I've seen that book come up in Anna/Bates stories and after considering it for a while, the parallels and reversals between the two love stories became striking. So this story is how I reconciled them. If you haven't read _Jane Eyre_, scanning through a brief summary on Wikipedia might not be a bad idea to have a better grasp of this story.**

**Reviews are always appreciated.**

* * *

"Does this one belong to you? Or should I return it to the library?"

Anna looked up from her sewing at the table in the servants' call to see Mr. Bates standing in the doorway across from her, a book in hand. The only other person in the room was Gwen, but she had her nose buried in her own novel.

Reading the title of the volume in his hand, Anna answered, "Actually that one's mine."

Finding out that the new valet was as voracious of a reader as herself, she'd been quick to lend him the most recent stack of books she'd finished.

"Then thank you for letting me borrow it," Bates stated, favoring her with a smile as he leaned across the table to slide it to her.

"Did you like it?" she asked.

Taking the silent invitation, he took the seat across from her. "I liked the main character," he allowed. "She seemed very strong, very sure of herself."

Anna let her eyes stray to the title of the novel. _Jane Eyre_. It was not only one of her favorites, but one of the few books she'd ever chosen to buy so she would not have to worry about being gentle with it. She'd re-read it so many times the spine had begun to crack from the abuse.

"You didn't find it romantic?" she asked carefully, taking care to keep her voice low so Gwen wouldn't overhear.

In the months since Mr. Bates' arrival, the two of them had struck up a natural friendship. While Anna hated seeing anyone schemed against by the likes of Thomas and Miss O'Brien, it helped that she genuinely liked the new valet. Not only did he perform his duties with tireless diligence and care, he did so humbly, with kindness and thought towards those around him. Though older, taller, and larger than Anna, he still treated her as an equal and occasionally even a superior.

Anna also counted herself victim to the air of mystery and romance about the enigmatic Mr. Bates. She knew he'd been in the army with Lord Grantham and had a mother living in London, but otherwise, he spoke little about himself.

"I thought it more tragic than romantic," he answered her after a moment of thought. "I didn't particularly care for the character of Mr. Rochester."

The observation confused Anna, especially since she'd begun to marvel at how much Mr. Bates reminded her of the romantic male lead in _Jane Eyre_. While she very much doubted that Mr. Bates had a mad wife locked up in an attic somewhere, he did have secrets in his past, she could tell.

"Why not?" she questioned.

The valet frowned. "He was a cad. He had no right to romance Jane, not when he was still married. He thought only of himself."

Anna quickly defended, "But Mr. Rochester was so miserable..."

"And that gave him a right to destroy Jane's future?" Mr. Bates asked sharply, betraying more than just a casual opinion on the topic. But he quickly calmed himself, returning his voice to a more casual tone. "He professed to love her, but he had nothing to offer. He would have degraded her by making her his mistress. And all because of his own selfishness."

Having begun to realize that he was talking about more than just a fictional character, Anna responded simply, "But he loved her."

"Had he really loved her, he would never have considered trying to keep her as his own. Not when being with him would bring her nothing but ruin."

She recognized the pain in his voice, the way the sentiment struck him particularly close to heart. His eyes betrayed shadows of his own personal torment.

"I don't think I could have condemned him to a life of loneliness, had I been Jane," Anna said finally.

As he met her eyes, Mr. Bates smiled at her sadly. "He condemned himself. And he had no right to drag her down with him."

Seeing that she was not to win this discussion, which was occurring on a deeper level for Mr. Bates than she could completely understand, Anna changed the subject and instead asked about one of the other books she'd lent him. While their conversation turned more agreeable, she could still see the shadows lurking in his eyes like phantoms of a past he would never escape.

* * *

She was in love with him.

He'd known it even before Anna said the words, declaring herself as boldly and brightly as he knew her to be. She tempered the words with self-effacement, as though she were less than perfect for not having a noblewoman's title. As if she needed to wear fine clothes and not work an honest day's labor in her life to have the freedom to declare herself.

Bates wished he could be what she wanted and to give her what he knew she deserved. He wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything - more than the full use of his leg or a lifetime of riches. Because as surely as she loved him, he loved her all the more.

But in the world they lived in, love was not enough.

If he could only find Vera and get her to agree to a divorce, then perhaps he could begin to have something to offer Anna, but not before. If he pursued Anna and sought her affections before being free, he would be no better than the Mr. Rochester from the book she so loved.

And unlike that fictional character, Bates was but a servant. He had no money, no title, no estate to offer in lieu of a life of legitimacy. Even if he were free to court Anna, his past showed how ineligible a suitor he was for her.

Anna discounted the limp, certainly, and apparently gave no thought to the difference in their ages. But the man she knew was Mr. Bates, a wounded soldier turned valet who did not like to discuss his past. Perhaps she thought him a romantic figure, like a hero in a book. He could not bear to think of how she'd feel if she ever found out the truth, that he'd been a self-pitying drunkard broken of the habit only by imprisonment for theft.

He was certainly no Mr. Rochester, as much as Anna might want him to be.

* * *

Ultimately, Anna did learn the truth, from his own mother of all people. Bates could not fault her for seeking out information on his past. Indeed, her digging had saved his job. She'd also greatly impressed his mother, who had spoken of nothing else in her latest letter to him.

_She's a good girl, that Anna. You shouldn't let her get away, no matter what you have to do to keep her._

Bates wanted to rebuke his mother that he would do anything to keep Anna, so long as any necessary sacrifices were born by him and him alone. Anna would already give up so much by agreeing to a future with him; he refused to ask her for more.

In so many ways, the young blonde housemaid reminded him of Jane Eyre. She seemed like a faery, a sort of ephemeral sprite who entered his world and transformed it with a love he never dared imagine. But in one way Bates suspected that Anna differed from Jane - she would let him ruin her for the sake of love.

In the novel, only fate had saved Jane's reputation at the discovery of Mr. Rochester's wife. And faced with the enticement to stay with him as his mistress when a real marriage proved impossible, Jane had run away. Despite the sacrifice of her position and her future and even her health, she'd run away and saved her reputation.

Bates had no belief that Anna would do the same if given the choice. She was so young and impetuous, and in many ways he envied her optimism about their future. But it was impossible. The only way he had of ensuring her honor was by protecting it with his own integrity.

He could not have her, not without a divorce from Vera.

* * *

"You should marry that Anna. Don't let anything stop you."

His dear sweet mother was dying, and in her final words, she was giving him romantic advice. Bates would have laughed but for his grief. His father had abandoned them when he was but a boy, and with no brothers and sisters, it had always been just the two of them.

"You know I can't marry her until I am able to get a divorce from Vera. We talked about this, Mother."

"You're a foolish boy if you wait for all that," she scolded lightly before the cough in her chest overtook her again.

Once she'd settled back into bed, her breath still coming in wheezing gasps, he responded, "You know I have to do what's best for Anna."

His mother smiled at him. "I know. And I should tell you... Vera was here."

"What?" he demanded. "When? When was she here?"

"A few weeks back. I meant to write, but..." She took another breath, and Bates could see it was growing even more difficult for her to breath. She'd been in no condition to write. "I told her you have a good life now, a better woman than her. Told her she should just let you go..."

He shook his head. Vera could not be prevailed upon by asking for kindness. The woman he'd married in the eternal foolishness of youth was an inherently selfish, thoughtless woman. She would do nothing unless it benefitted her.

"I'm leaving you some money, John," his poor mother went on. "Not a lot, but enough to pay her off, when she comes sniffing back here. Or use it to start a new life with Anna, even without the divorce. Go somewhere they won't know you."

He tried to speak, but the emotions welling up within choked off his words as tears came to his eyes.

"You're not like your father, Johnny. You're a good man. Done right by yourself, even when it was-" She coughed again, but he waited for her to finish, "-even when it was hard. You deserve to be happy."

The words left her chest with an unexpected suddenness, and Bates realized that it would not be much longer.

"I love you, Mother," he said, holding one of her frail hands between both of his.

"Be happy, son..."

* * *

Anna had never felt happier, not ever in her life, than she did in that moment. While she hated that Mr. Bates' kindly mother had finally succumbed to her terrible illness, Anna delighted in his news.

They could finally be together. Not right away, of course, but once he was able to secure a divorce from Vera. He sounded so confident, so full of the hope that had been long denied them. And what's more, he wanted to make plans with her.

A family. Children. A hotel.

At long last, their dreams would finally come true.

Of course, she'd be happy with him even without the divorce and without a legal marriage. Anna knew Mr. Bates wanted to protect her from a world that would judge them for living together unmarried. But none of it seemed to matter, not the names people would call her for living in sin with a married man, nor the places she'd be turned out from or the neighbors who would not associate with her.

Anna did not care about any of it, not if they could be together.

Sometimes she reflected on Jane's decision to flee Mr. Rochester after discovering his mad wife. Anna understood the character's motivations and her strongly held beliefs, but she also lived in the real world where everything was not quite so black and white. And if Mr. Bates had ever offered to take her to live abroad, with or without the fortune to make their lives comfortable, she would have jumped at the chance without a second thought.

But then _she _arrived at Downton, and Anna's world began to crumble and collapse. Unlike Jane fleeing into the night, Mr. Bates left Downton in full morning light under the watchful eye of his very sane, very spiteful wife.

* * *

Anna survived better than the heroines in books who flung themselves on the moors without a thought for their own welfare. She knew herself to be much too practical for such displays. No, if she had to nurse a broken heart, she could do it just as well while she worked as without.

Gradually, day by day, and week by week, her pain faded to a dull ache. Her anger at Mr. Bates merged with her sadness, the two emotions mixing together into a muted agony of loss. And rather than a massive boulder she carried on her shoulders every day, the disappointment was like a small intense stone she could put away in her pocket to take out and examine when she had a moment.

In the end, when faced with despising Mr. Bates for having left her and cursing the shrew of wife who had drug him off, all Anna could do was count herself blessed to have known him as long as she did. Before meeting John Bates, she'd only ever known love from books and fairy tales. Now that she knew what true love felt like, she had those memories to look back on fondly.

When Mr. Moseley expressed an interest in her, the pain barely stirred up at all. Anna marveled at her own composure as she let him down - gently but firmly. Mr. Bates had once told her there was nothing worse than false hope and she did not want Mr. Moseley to suffer from that malady as regards her. She would not love again, she knew, not the way she'd loved Mr. Bates.

She said as much to Lady Mary soon after. But then, Anna knew it was likely easier for a housemaid to forsake all other potential lesser loves than a lady of noble birth who would be expected to marry, no matter that the object of her affections had promised himself to another.

Besides, Anna had never expected to marry, not really. By the time Mr. Bates appeared at Downton, the kind of young men who used to show interest in her had given up and found themselves girls from the village or elsewhere. She rather enjoyed working in a big house and the thought of moving back to a farm to work in the fields held little appeal. As head housemaid, she had respect and even a few perks as the maid to the three daughters. Anna knew if she were lucky, one day she might move up to the position of lady's maid for Lady Mary and then eventually take over for Mrs. Hughes as housekeeper.

It was a decent future, one she had no right to look badly on. But at night in bed, she thought longingly of a day when Mr. Bates would return to her and make both their dreams come true.

Anna frowned at the trunk which had her copy of _Jane Eyre _stowed in the bottom, discarded out of resentment. She thought about the end of the novel and specifically the fate of Mr. Rochester after Jane fled. Perhaps as penance for his attempt to marry Jane despite already having a wife, Mr. Rochester nearly died in a fire set by his mad wife and ended up blind and disfigured. His wife did not survive the blaze, nor did his great house. In that state, miserable and crippled, Jane returned to him.

Cognizant of how much the story reminded her of the relationship she had shared with Mr. Bates, Anna added a silent prayer that there would be no fire at Downton or harm to the man she loved.

* * *

Anna's heart beat wildly as she stepped off the bus in Kirbymoorside. A quick glance showed she did not have far to walk to the pub in question, The Red Lion. She looked through the smoke smoky glass windows before entering and spotted him moving behind the bar.

She pushed away the oddness of seeing Mr. Bates in a pub considering that she knew he did not drink alcohol. Having been a self-proclaimed drunkard in the past, Anna knew he'd completely given it up. Unconsciously, she worried about him working at the bar and wondered if he found it difficult being surrounded by alcohol every day.

As she stepped into the pub, Mr. Bates was helping a customer ahead of her. But a moment later, his eyes darted to hers and she could see him stiffen slightly in recognition. Anna struggled for something to say, something ordinary and unsensational. The last thing Mr. Bates likely needed was her making a scene at his work.

"Might I have a glass of cider?" she managed.

He was happy to see her - she could tell - but he voiced uncertainty at her appearance. Part of her wanted to let him off the hook, to forgive him freely for breaking her heart. But she couldn't just yet. She needed more from him, something with certainty, before she opened herself up to that pain again.

Taking a break from his work, he found them a table where they could talk.

"How did you find me?" he asked.

"I thought I saw you in Ripon a few days ago. I mentioned it to Lady Mary and she found out from Sir Richard you were working here."

Bates nodded, obviously unconcerned about her checking up on him. He confessed readily to having been the man she'd seen in Ripon.

"I so longed for a glimpse of you," he admitted. He went on to tell her about why he was in Kirbymoorside and his plans for divorcing Vera. He skipped over the "stuff" Vera had threatened to sell to the papers, the information Anna suspected she'd used to blackmail him away from Downton.

She wanted to ask about it further, to know what could so compromise her that Bates would walk away from his job to return to his wife to keep it from coming out. But he avoided her question and managed to change the subject by remarking on her hair.

Anna tried desperately to stay angry at him, to keep her distance and speak only in a cold, pitiless voice. This man had broken her heart, had proposed one day and taken it back the next to return with his wife to London - a woman she knew that he hated. Even if he'd done it all for her sake, to save her from some reputation damaging story, Mr. Bates had still hurt her terribly.

And then he said he loved her. As befit his personality, he did not state it outright but rather more poetically noted, "I think I would love you however, whenever, whatever..."

The adoration shown in his eyes as he looked at her, drinking her in like she was a sweet gulp of water and he a starving man. Anna reached across the table to take his hands.

Despite being so long separated from him, she still loved him, so very much. Having already arrived at the conclusion that she could never love another man, Anna had no wish to wait for the resolution of matters with Vera. What did she care if they were properly married? Surely living in sin together would be preferable to being apart.

She made the suggestion to him that she go away with him, if he wanted, knowing Mr. Bates would have to give up as much as she if they engaged in an illicit relationship. But he did not understand at first, seeming to believe that she was suggesting he engage in bigamy.

"It's not illegal to take a mistress, Mr. Bates," she informed him.

She'd thought about it endlessly since that night in the courtyard when he'd walked out of her life. They could be happy together, Anna knew they could. As a divorced man, he'd still be looked down on just as much as a man who sought the bed of a woman not his wife. Perhaps it would be even worse for him as a divorcee. Living in sin would only really harm her reputation, and she did not care, not if it meant they could be together.

Anna was raised properly. She'd spent most of her teenage years under the sharp eyes of Mrs. Hughes at Downton and knew exactly the proprieties expected by society. Having worked at the great house, she'd also seen both there and in the village how people treated those who broke the social rules. She was not naïve.

Ostracism. Contempt. Name calling. Refusal of service. Loss of position.

She'd have trouble finding a job without a reference, but Anna knew she was a hard worker. She could scrub floors if she had to or work long hours in a factory. She'd endure the stares and the curses thrown her way by other women when they found out she lived with Mr. Bates, unmarried.

Because if she could be with him, none of the rest of it mattered. As long as they could be together, she'd trade it all, gladly. The way he looked at her, she wondered if he would agree.

"I know you Anna Smith, and I love you, and that is not the right path for you," he told her instead. "It won't be long now."

She sighed at his refusal, especially the way he phrased it in terms of her. What about him? Did he hold back merely to spare her? Because she had no wish to be spared. All she needed was to be with him.

"Maybe if I was a lord with wealth and privilege I would be willing to do as you suggest," Mr. Bates said quietly, "but I have very little to offer you as it is. I can't take everything from you and give nothing back."

"So you're saying, if you were Mr. Rochester, you'd agree to take me as a mistress?"

"Perhaps," he allowed grudgingly. "But it still wouldn't be right."

"Jane was a fool to refuse him after she found out."

"No, she wasn't," Mr. Bates argued. "He should never have put her in such a position. He was older, higher born, more experienced in the world. He had no right to take a young woman of lower station and destroy her life for the sake of his own selfish desires."

Anna blinked at him. "You make it sound as though he was taking advantage of her."

"He was. In the worst way possible."

"But they loved each other."

"That's why it is the worst. He tried to use her love against her to get her to violate her convictions."

Anna pursed her lips in a small pout. "Her convictions were the only thing keeping them apart."

Bates shook his head sharply as his mood seemed to change from soft and loving to brooding. "No, that isn't fair. Jane was never to blame. He made his own mistakes, and he had no right to ask her to pay for them."

He began to pull his hands away from her, his expression dark, but Anna held his fingers firmly in her own.

"They ended up together in the end," Anna said, hoping to return him to his earlier good mood.

"She ended up a nursemaid to a crippled old man," Mr. Bates responded harshly, looking away from her. She could see the doubts beginning to cloud his eyes once more.

"But they were happy."

"Yes, they were happy," he agreed, looking back at her, blinking back moisture that had gathered in his eyes. "Anna, you know I will do anything to give you that happiness. _Anything._ But I can't destroy your life and count myself a decent man. I would never, ever forgive myself for bringing ruin on you. Please don't suggest it again."

Anna responded with a tight, embarrassed nod. She'd never meant to suggest he'd act less than honorably. Despite his self-deprecating nature, Mr. Bates acted within a more strict moral code than most of the people she knew. It spoke well of him that he refused to acknowledge himself as a good person, although Anna wished he could see himself through her eyes.

"I won't suggest it again," she agreed, "under one condition."

"What condition?"

"If you can't get the divorce... If Vera refuses to the point that we both admit it will never happen... I won't give you up, Mister Bates. I won't let you walk out of my life again. If you can't marry me and you won't take me as a mistress, then I will have what joy I can with you. Not even a lifetime of stolen moments together like this will be enough, but I'd rather have that than nothing."

They had to part shortly after as the man Bates had covering for him at the bar called him back. Anna did not even have time to kiss him goodbye before leaving to catch the bus back. But she did promise to come again on her next half day off.

* * *

While they had succeeded in stopping Vera from publishing her damaging story, those efforts had only angered her past all sense as it came to John Bates. She no longer cared about the money or the house or any of it. She wanted him to suffer, and as she knew that the only thing keeping him from happiness was their continued marriage, she told him that she would refuse a divorce.

"Why does it matter so much if you marry your little harlot?" Vera had sneered at him. "Or will she not give it up if you don't make it legal?"

He resisted the wave of rage that swept through him, but only just barely. "Call her all the names you like," he ground out. "But Anna is twice the woman you are."

"I don't know, Batesy. She looked rather sour and stuck up. How can you be sure she can satisfy you if you don't have a little taste first?"

Her leering questions galled him. She'd been this way during their marriage, berating him for trying to act honorably, telling him that no matter what he did, it would not make up for all the terrible things he'd done in his life. The only place she'd allowed him the illusion of any adequacy was in the bedroom, although he always felt hollow and sick after their nights together.

"One moment in Anna's company is more satisfying than an entire night with you," Bates shot back at her.

"Then you better get used to those moments," Vera told him, "because that is all you will ever have. And years from now, if she doesn't leave you before then, she'll look at you and wonder why she's wasted her life on a pathetic, crippled old man."

He wanted to strike her, but the statement hit too close to home. Even his horrible shrew of a wife recognized that Anna was too good for him.

"You're jealous," Bates said finally. "You're jealous that I fell in love with Anna. I loved you once, Vera, or at least I thought I did. I even went to prison for you. But what we had wasn't love. I realized that when I met her. She isn't like you. She loves me for who I am, not what I can give her. Anna would never let me go to prison for her because she loves me. And even if you and I remain married in name for the rest of our lives, she will still love me. And we will have each other. Nothing you can do will take that from us. But you, Vera - you will always be alone."

He left the house without another word. She watched him go, very still for a while, before she turned to the half-made pie sitting on the counter. Her hand hesitated at the cupboard for a moment before she pulled out a small bottle - clearly marked as poison.

With one last glance at the door Bates had left through, Vera continuing with her pie.

* * *

"How was it?"

"Worse than you can possibly imagine."

She put her hand up to touch the scratch on his face, but he reached to stop her, forcing himself to reject her comfort. Once he told her everything, she would understand why he could not accept what she offered, why it was wrong to let her touch him.

Vera was never going to let the divorce go through. She had won.

As much as he despised the character of Mr. Rochester in Anna's book, Bates had to acknowledge that at least the fool had gone into his marriage blindly. When Bates married Vera, he never knew what that one mistake would mean for all his future happiness. And he'd gone into it knowingly. He knew who Vera was when they married, knew her personality and her vices. Young and on his way to war in South Africa, he'd fancied himself in love, mistaking it for the lust rushing through his veins.

No, he deserved the hell he was in for marrying Vera, knowing who she was back then. But Anna did not deserve any of it. And she suffered alongside him, never wavering.

Not for the first time, Bates thought about Jane Eyre and her desperate flight from Thornfield Hall in the middle of the night. Her morality drove her to starvation and almost to death. No, not her morality, Bates decided. Her love of Mr. Rochester had almost ended her life. She would never have found herself in such a precarious position if not for him.

And yet, they ended up together. Ultimately, Rochester lost his arm and eyesight in the fire that set him free from his mad wife, which allowed him to marry Jane. But it was worth it, Bates determined.

The valet found himself wondering what he would trade of himself in order to have Anna. His arm? Certainly. Perhaps he could give up his bum leg - it already gave him enough problems. His eyesight? He could do without it, he decided, if it did not make him a burden to Anna. After some thought, he could not think of anything he wouldn't give up for Anna's love and to ensure her happiness.

While he'd never been much of a religious man, he composed a small prayer to the entity in the sky so many were sure existed. He made an offer of a bargain. He'd give anything of himself to be with Anna.

Not long after, Bates received the answer to his prayer. He just never expected it to come in the voice of a judge pronouncing his guilt and ordering his execution.

* * *

"Did you bring it?"

He inquired with the hopeful glee of a child asking for a particular gift at Christmas. Favoring him with a smile, she produced the book, handing it to the warden so it could be reviewed before being passed to her husband.

"I still don't know why you asked for it. I thought you hated that book," she said.

"You love it, and that's enough for me," he told her.

Anna frowned, not wanting to admit that since they'd first discussed the novel those many years ago, she had grown to hate it and all it represented. The struggle of Mr. Rochester over his feelings for Jane reminded her too much of Mr. Bates. And as much as she used to love Jane's character, she'd begun to resent her rejection of a life Anna would have gladly accepted.

"I wouldn't let the other inmates see you reading it," she warned. "They may tease you."

He smiled at her in that way of his, the one bordering between indulgent and amused. "I'm not worried about them teasing me," he stated.

Of course, the tone of his voice only made her grow concerned that they would do worse than tease him. Anna knew her husband was not a young man, and without the use of his cane, he limped terribly when he walked. The other inmates likely saw it as a sign of weakness, and she feared they targeted him.

"Has anyone tried to hurt you?" Anna asked, trying to be casual.

"I can take care of myself," he assured her.

"I know you can. I just worry."

In truth she stayed up late most nights thinking about him, about how he was getting on in prison. She knew little about such facilities beyond what she'd read in books, and even those portrayed less accurate information than she'd learned just through her visits to him. Did they give him enough food? Did they ever abuse him?

"I know you worry about me, Anna. You always have. But this is one thing you can be at peace about." Pausing slightly, Bates explained, "You know I've been in prison before."

"I know."

"I know how things work here. I know how to handle myself."

She nodded in acceptance. "I want you to do whatever you have to do to survive and come home to me," she said.

"I will. I promise."

He looked down at the book in his hands. Letting it fall open, he flipped to the nearest dog-eared page. Reading a few lines, he noted, "This is when she first meets him on the road."

"Not a very romantic meeting," Anna said.

"Well, nothing compares to how we met," he noted with humor. "I still remember the first thing you said to me."

Smiling at him despite herself, she pointed out, "I only introduced myself."

"Yes, but you did it so well. I was captivated."

Giggling at his comment, Anna responded, "My mother always said I had a way with words."

"Your mother was right."

"I seem to remember you having an air of mystery about you, not telling anyone you knew His Lordship in the war, letting them wonder how you'd gotten the job."

Bates shrugged non-chalantly. "As I said then, no one asked."

"Well I didn't think it was proper to ask," Anna informed him. "Because why shouldn't you have gotten the job from your references alone?"

"That's what I first loved about you, I think. You were always so amazingly kind to me."

"Well, you made it easy." Thinking for a moment, she went on, "To be kind, that is. But you made it very difficult for me to offer you anything more than kindness."

"I didn't deserve more," he said. "I still don't."

"I think that as your wife, I'm the judge of that," Anna scolded him.

"I love you, Anna. I love you so much."

"And I love you, silly beggar."

* * *

He carried the book in his coat pocket when they let him out of prison, along with the few other possessions that meant anything at all to him - just Anna's photo, creased and stained from being handled so much, and her letters tied together in a bundle.

As he prepared to leave his cell, he marveled at how most objects really held no significance for him any more. Clothes were replaceable. Books, or most books, could be found in a library or bookshop. Anna's copy of _Jane Eyre_ would likely not make it long in such an institution as it would be discarded as ruined. The broken spine had shattered completely while in his charge, and he'd painstakingly rebound it as best he could. But some of the pages were still loose and the back cover had water damage from a leaking window.

But Bates still treasured the volume all the same, because it belonged to her.

She greeted him outside the gate, and he thought his heart might burst from the joy brought by the sight of her. He must have done something truly amazing in a past life to be rewarded with the love of such a woman as this one.

They rode back to Downton Abbey in Lord Grantham's car, and as they traveled along the roads and lanes, Bates marveled at the sights he had missed while in prison. Trees and fields full to bursting with vibrant greens, the sounds of village life, the sights of everyday people walking about their lives, none of them bedecked in the drab gray prison uniforms to which he had grown so accustomed.

And Anna...

She kept one arm looped through his, as though if she let go of him he would vanish before her very eyes. And every time he looked at her, he saw her grin with such delight. If only he could make her this happy every day, for the rest of their lives.

Most everyone at Downton greeted him back warmly, from Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes all the way down to Daisy and Mrs. Patmore. He also met the new faces Anna had told him about in her letters and visits - the two young footmen and the kitchen maid. Only Thomas and Miss O'Brien were lacking in warmth, although even Miss O'Brien seemed happy enough to have him back.

"They've had a falling out, her and Thomas," Anna told him later as they spent their free afternoon exploring the grounds and woods surrounding the house. While Bates appreciated the free time granted so readily by Lord Grantham to them both, he worried about reestablishing himself in his position as valet. Surely Thomas had not distinguished himself enough to be a permanent replacement?

They walked by the cottages and speculated as to which one they might be given. Bates found himself impatient to start his new life with Anna. After so many years of waiting, after so much pain and sorrow, they could finally be together as he'd always wanted them to be. He could finally give Anna the life she deserved.

"And it only cost me a year and a half in prison," he thought to himself, remembering the deal he'd made with God. And of course it wouldn't be an arm or a leg or his eyesight - it would be time, the most precious thing he had not considered.

Bates did not realize he'd spoken aloud until Anna asked, "What cost you a year and a half in prison?"

He wondered how much he should share with her of his thoughts. Surely, he'd injected enough darkness into her life? But no, he could not lie to his wife, not in this, not when she looked at him with open eyes and an adoring heart.

"Before I was arrested for Vera's murder, I was thinking about Mr. Rochester and the fire." Anna's look betrayed her confusion, so Bates continued, "He had to do penance, I think, for attempting to marry Jane when he was already married. Perhaps he had to do it for all his sins, I don't know. But in the fire, he was able to redeem himself. He tried to save his wife, despite all the misery being married to her had caused him."

"She still died," Anna stated.

"Setting him free of her. But he lost his arm and his sight," Bates stated.

She added, "And his home."

"Yes, that as well. But in the end, he was free to marry Jane when she returned to him."

Anna asked pensively, "Why would you think of that?"

"Because, before my arrest, I was trying to decide what penance I would be willing to do for the chance to be with you."

She froze at his statement, her body tensing as she withdrew her arm from his.

"Why should you have to do penance?" she demanded. "You've done nothing wrong."

"I've done many wrong things in my life, not the least of which is causing you pain." She started to shake her head, so he continued, "Please don't deny it, Anna. I haven't always done the best by you, and we both know it. I wasn't truthful with you in the beginning about being married. I never told you about my past; you had to find out for yourself. I let myself propose to you even before I was certain of a divorce from Vera. And finally, worst of all, I drug you through a murder trial. No woman should ever have to worry about watching her husband be executed, nor should she have to visit him behind bars."

Anna responded quickly, "None of that matters. And you've never purposely hurt me."

"But I have hurt you. I've told you before, Anna, that I don't deserve you. I never have. But I've been blessed with your love anyway." Looking at the cottages around them, then back at her, he said, "I've been blessed with this life with you."

"And all it cost you was 18 months in prison," Anna said, repeating his earlier comment.

Bates smiled at her. "If not for the heartache it caused you, I'd say it was a bargain."

* * *

They fixed up the cottage before moving in, the finality of finally having a home to themselves spurring their efforts to restore the space. Bates did not mind the painting, although it hurt his pride when Anna commandeered the ladder to hit all the higher spots on the walls.

"I'm not an invalid, you know," he told her.

"I never said you were," Anna returned. "You're just not as steady as I am. And where would we be if you fell and broke a leg or an arm?"

Bates would not be rehired as his Lordship's valet if he fell and broke a bone, he knew that for certain. And so he let Anna direct him while she painted high and hung curtains. He also suspected that she rather enjoyed the rare opportunity to look down at him rather than up.

"Do I have a bald spot back there?" he asked once when he'd caught her staring at him.

"Not that I can see," she returned smartly, grinning at his feigned frown.

With her hair down in a loose braid and her eyes alight with mischief, Anna had never looked so young and alive. With her standing on the ladder, she rather reminded him of the statutes of goddesses on pedestals in the museums. Anna Bates - his very own English goddess.

"Now you're staring at me," she chastised him, although her tone betrayed a strong element of humor.

"Can you blame me?"

"We're supposed to be working so we can have this place ready to move in."

"I'm just taking a moment to admire my beautiful wife," he responded.

His wife.

His gorgeous little faery of a wife.

* * *

They finished with the refurbishment after dinner, re-arranging the furniture and placing the final touches here and there. Remembering something, Bates went to his coat hung by the door and removed the book from one of the pockets. Handling it carefully, reverently, he placed it on the bookshelf next to their other volumes. Anna had already mixed his books with hers during his incarceration, so he did not need to determine where this one belonged. He simply put it on the end of a row, its frightful appearance standing out among the other well cared for volumes.

"You kept that old thing?" Anna asked after the tattered book. "Maybe we should throw it out, get another copy," she suggested.

"I don't think that's necessary," Bates defended. "It may be a little beat up and a little worse for wear, but it made it through. And it is still the same on the inside."

Smiling at his words, understanding the added meaning, Anna nodded. "Quite right. But I thought you hated that story."

He shrugged. "I found after further reflection that it grew on me. I of all people can appreciate Mister Rochester's desire for the chance at a little happiness in his life." Reading her expression, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Anna shook her head. "Nothing. I just... I can't say I like the book anymore. It hit a little too close to home. I'm not terribly fond of Jane anymore."

"Why not?" Bates asked, curious. "She had the strength to stand up for her convictions."

"She had a chance to be with the man she loved, and she threw it away because of those so-called convictions. What I would have given-" Anna stopped herself, blinking back tears. "If we had gone away together, when you were still working at Kirbymoorside..." she began again.

Understanding where she was going, he said gently, "Then I never would have gone to prison. But Vera wouldn't have killed herself, and she'd have sold the story of Lady Mary to the press, bringing scandal on Downton and on you, Anna. I'd still be married, and your reputation would be in ruins."

"I've told you before, that doesn't matter," she insisted, her emotions threatening to get the best of her. "It never mattered to me. I'd have traded everything to keep you out of prison."

"I know," he allowed softly, reaching out to run a hand along one side of her face. "You've always given me so much. So much I can never repay."

"You don't have to repay me, silly beggar," Anna chided him gently. "You're my husband. Everything mine is yours."

He let out a soft sigh as he leaned down to kiss her. "Then these lips are mine," he said, laying claim to them. "And these beautiful eyes." He laid twin kisses on each of her eyelids even as he heard her groan deeply at his ministrations.

"All yours," she confirmed as he moved on to kiss the soft skin in front of her ear and along her jaw. As his lips dipped lower and his fingers played at the collar of her dress, she asked, "Should we take this upstairs, Mister Bates?"

"That's why we hung the curtains," he responded gently, his eyes scanning their sitting room as though to confirm no one else was with them. "So we don't have to if we don't want to."

The freedom of such privacy was so strange to them both but particularly to Anna, who had always shared a bedroom, let alone all the other common space available to her.

With his lips on her neck, she worried, "But is it entirely proper? What if someone comes to the door?"

He chuckled at her tone, pulling away from her. Instantly she missed the warmth of him against her and his satiny lips on her skin.

"I don't want you to feel the slightest bit uncomfortable in our home, Anna," he told her. "So yes, let us go upstairs." She sighed in relief as he followed her up.

Behind them on the bookcase, the old and weathered copy of _Jane Eyre _just sat, a reminder of both anguished longing and the redemptive power of love.

_fin_


End file.
